


Day 1: Tattoo

by onehaleofanadventure



Series: JayTim Week 2016 [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, I'm bad at writing fight scenes, Jason's love of Chili dogs!, JayTim Week 2016, JayTimWeek2016, M/M, Minor Violence, Tattoos, a little blood, mutual secret pining, so I just skip them...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:42:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7650349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onehaleofanadventure/pseuds/onehaleofanadventure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some has a secret: a tattoo, a crush (or two)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 1: Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything of actual substance in a while, so this is probably a little rough. Also, I have summer finals this week, so I'm so very sorry that it is rushed, and if anything is confused, feel free to ask.
> 
> Oh, before I forget, this is what I like to call fantasy Jason and fantasy Tim, They're a bit out of character but perfect for each other. As always, these are not my character, just my interpretation of them.

He was drunk when he made the decision. He knew what the family would say, but no matter what Grayson wanted, he was not one of them anymore, he didn’t work for the Bat. And the Bat would not dictate his choices.

He knew what he wanted, he’d thought about it before. Ten tequila shots with Roy and Kori—well, they did not keep up, training in Russia assured that he had a love of and higher tolerance for the strong stuff—is what made him admit it out loud, and now that his team knows, it’s about time he gets it done.

Roy made him wait until he was sober and free of any lingering hangover—not that he actually had one. In the meantime, he did, arguably excessive, research on everything he could think of, and annoyed Roy with questions about his own experience.

Despite being completely happy with his decision, laying on some ridiculous “padded” table while a guy with ink that puts Roy to shame assembles the little gun, he did not envy himself the lecture he would receive when someone eventually glimpsed his tattoo.

The Bat’s cold disapprove—No distinguishing marks—Grayson’s everything, tinged with fond amusement. At least the little Demon Child won’t care, The League does things differently after all. Tim, well, Tim’s reaction is hard to guess, the little Bat-ling is all but an exact copy of Bruce’s personality, but he does have his surprises.

\-------------------------

This is all the Replacement’s fault, the kid is too damn cute for his own good, for anyone’s good really—Jason’s especially.

In Jason’s newest effort to play nice with The Family, he agreed to help on cases when they come close to his part of the city, or when an “ex-crime boss’” insight might be helpful. Since most of Tim’s patrol route is along the docks, little Timmers is always dealing with drug cases.

This particular case was big, bigger than he usually dealt with—not quite Black Mask big, no way was Big Bad B going to let someone else have point on one of his Rogues—and therefore, the kind of case that benefit from a (ex) Drug Lord’s knowledge of illegal business dealings.

It was nearly two weeks of bad takeout, meeting at whatever safe house is closest and boring paper trails before they caught their break and crashed the whole operation. He even, begrudgingly, agreed not to kill anyone while they were working together.

Many non-fatal wounds later the whole operation was in flames—literally, much to Tim’s annoyance, he agreed not to kill, no one said anything about explosives--and everyone was zip-tied and awaiting GCPD custody.

\-------------------------

That was the end of the case, so that should be the end of their hanging-out, right? Wrong.

It’d been a long, successful night, he was going call it and head home, or to his closest safe house. Just as he turned to give Timbers his signature juanty salute--

“Hey, Jay. I’m starved, it’s late, we should go get breakfast.” Tim suggested.

For whatever reason—he totally knows, but refuses to admit his stupid adolescent crush—he finds it difficult to say no to the kid. “Only if we make it chili dogs instead.”

“Chili dogs are not breakfast.”

“…” Jason only answer with a raised eyebrow, not that Tim could see it with the helmet on.

“That’s the only way you’ll agree, isn’t it?” Tim questioned.

“You bet, kid. Come on, I know where we can find the best in all of Gotham.” Jason smirked. “Race you.”

Tim only sighed and rolled his eyes.

\------------------

Fifteen minutes and several rooftops later, they dropped down into an alley between an abandoned warehouse and a coffee shop. Across the street was one of those food vendor carts that you wheel around, it even had the cliché, big, red umbrella. Hanging of it was one of the little chalkboard signs boasting “Best Chili Dogs Anywhere”.

Jason removed the helmet, revealing the little red domino underneath. “Hey, Sal,” a quick glance at Tim, looking him up and down, “two for each of us, kid is way too tiny.”

Tim huffed, glaring at Jason. “Just because I’m smaller than your giant-ness, doesn’t mean I’m tiny, I’m a healthy weight for my height.” He tried to sound factual, but with the crossed arms, it came out more petulant. Turning to look at Sal, he and Jason grabbed their food and gave their thanks.

They stopped to get some coffee and headed back up to sit on the edge of their building and eat their breakfast.

Unsurprisingly, Jason finished first. He’s hesitant to leave, he wants sleep, but he’s not really ready to leave Tim, who knows when or if they’ll spend any more time together.

With a burst of static, Oracle appeared in their ears. “Hood, Red. There is a series of explosions going off starting at pier 3, looks like the beginnings of a turf war. Stop it before they start racking up civilian casualties.”

“You got it O.” Tim responded, jumping up and shoving the last of his chili dog into his mouth. “No killing Hood.”

Jason rolled his eyes, obvious enough that it would show through the mask, and took off towards the docks.

\-------------------------

Apparently some European business decided to branch out. They are well known and powerful where their main operation is, and thought that would be enough to get them a foothold in Gotham. And with a small hold, they planned to take everyone else down.

However, it seems that they pissed off some Black Mask henchman. It started out as nothing more than a bar brawl; minutes later Black Mask’s people set fire to the Europeans entire operation: a whole lot of drugs and even more guns. The fires spread to the next warehouse, which had some chemical for medical research that was supposed to be delivered in the morning, and just kept going.

Priority one was stopping the fire. Gotham’s fire department is on the way, but unless they can stop the spread, the entire warehouse district will go up in flames.

They split up to see what they can do to stop the fire, or stall it until the fire department could get there.

Skipping the already flaming docks and warehouses, Tim headed to the abandoned buildings up by the first dock and Jason went down to the sixth pier. There wasn’t a whole lot they could do without fire equipment, but they removed everything flammable and attempt limit the ability for spread barring wind.

With the warehouses emptied and the fire department arriving, Red Hood and Red Robin converge on the street-brawl, turf-war.

“A lot of bodies, not much strategy.” Hood intoned.

Red Robin glanced towards him, “Then it shouldn't take us long,” and leapt into the fight.

\-------------------------

The little bird was right about the fight being over quick, but that did not mean it was an easy fight, even if it should have been.

The problem with stupid people who have gun and not common sense, or skill with firearms: stray bullets.

It tends to be a lot harder to plan for and avoid bullets coming at you from guns pointing in the other direction.

And that, explains the blood seeping down his left and dripping over the hole in his armored pants. It has been a long night and he really wants to go home; find some tape and gauze—hopefully he wouldn’t need stitches, it felt like only a graze—and pass out for a couple hours.

As was the apparent theme of the night, Tim was not done with him yet.

“Alright, Hood, GCPD is on the way—“

Tim paused, tilting his head curiously. “You’re bleeding” He was in full concerned Red Robin voice now “what happened?”

“Chill, little Red. It’s a graze from some idiot who should never allowed near a gun. I’m fine, but I’m calling it. No more emergencies, just sleep.” Jason replied.

Tim was not convinced and instead of walking away, he reach towards the wound. “Let me—“

“Nah, I’m good, kid. Go home.” Jason interrupted.

“I will drag your giant ass back to my safe house to get a look at that if I must.”

“Wrong ex-Robin.” Jason grumbled, before grunting in acceptance. He did not have the energy or desire to fight Tim tonight.

\-------------------------

“Shit, Timbers. I’m bleeding here, could you be a little more—“

“Shut up, Jay. Just go sit on the couch.” He glanced up at him, removing his gloves and then the rest of his suit. “And try not to bleed all over my stuff.”

“Ha ha.” Jason mocked. “Just hurry up so I can get some sleep.”

A few minutes later, Tim came back in sweats and a t-shirt with a small, Alfred-approved first aid kit. So he didn’t think it was anything serious either.

 _Wait, if he doesn’t think it’s serious, then why the hell did he demand that he take care of it,_  Jason thought, but Tim was already standing him up and pushing at his clothes before he could voice his question.

He helped, but apparently was not moving fast enough, so Tim kept pulling at his clothes, being careful of the blood.

Once Tim got to his waistband, and started pushing it down, Jason smirked and purred out: “Well, Babybird, if you wanted to get in my pants, all you had to do was ask real sweet.”

  
Tim looked up at him, “Oh, yes. Please Jay, take off your pants for me,” he deadpanned.

Jason huffed, smiling wider, and helpfully wiggled to get his pants farther down his thighs. They stopped at his knees, but he figured it would be more comfortable if he just took them all the way off, good thing he actually did laundry this week and had clean boxer briefs.

When he turned back to Tim—who was just staring at him with a mixture of sad fondness and curiosity, poorly concealed with blankness—his smile curled slightly and he raised one thick eyebrow.

After a few moments, his smirk faltered and he followed Tim’s gaze down to his right hip, and froze. Right there, out in the open, as dark as the day he got it—

“Jay…” Tim whispered, haltingly reaching out towards him.

Jason shifted awkwardly, but didn’t stop his hand as it slowly, and shakily jerked towards him. When his fingers brushed the skin just between the waistband of his underwear and the ink of the tattoo, Jason inhaled sharply, fighting down an instinctive flinch at contact against sensitive skin.

“Jay,” Tim looked up and back down quickly, continuing to rub the small empty patch of skin, “Jay, i-it’s beautiful. Can I..? Umm.. Can I touch it?”

Jason still cannot say no to the beautiful, crystal blue eyes, but he can make light of the situation. “Sure, Babybird, you already got your hands on me, feel me up all you like.” The smirk felt real, but the tone felt far short of his usual confidence.

Tim carefully traced the dark and intricate lines of a robin, with clearly broken wings spread wide, as if trying to fly. He traced the delicate swoops, and soft looking feathers across Jason’s smooth and surprisingly soft hip, as if in a trance.

Jason, becoming increasingly less comfortable with the tenderness and vulnerability of the situation, but unable to come up with anything to break the heavy silence, shifted his weight to his left leg. Jarringly, he was reminded of his reasons for standing nearly naked in Tim’s living room.

Tim quickly stepped back and over to where he set the bandages, flushing darkly all the way down his pale neck.

“S-s-sorry.” Tim cleared his throat, looking a little awkward and frankly adorable. “I’ll just uhh.. I’ll just clean this up. It looks like a little graze. Clean it, cover it, and you’ll be good as new.” He said, studying his hands and not meeting Jason’s eyes.

Jason smiled softly, fondly. He waited until Tim finished up to hook his finger under his chin and force those beautiful blue eyes to meet his own blue-green gaze. His eyes were soft and fond and his smile got warmer when Tim’s blush began to reappear. “Its fine, Timbers.” Jason stretched out on one end of the couch, “Touch all you want.”

Tim’s answering smile was small, though no less adoring. He sat on the edge of the couch, practically in Jason’s lap, carefully avoid his injury. “Jay,” he whispered again, slowly placing one hand just below the robin’s bright red tail feathers. The other hand moved towards Jason’s face, and he carefully—giving Jason time to pull away—leaned forward.

They were both pleasantly surprised with the gentle meeting of warm, slightly chapped lips.


End file.
